


A Prince and his Squire

by tprillahfiction



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Catholic Character, Catholic Guilt, Christmas fic, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Sex, Explicit Sex, Fantasy, K/S Advent, K/S Advent Calendar, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Medieval Medicine, Middle Ages, Religion, Religious Conflict, Religious Content, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Roman Catholicism, Royalty, Snow, historical fluff with sex, holiday fic, king arthur's knights, kings - Freeform, kirk/spock - Freeform, kirk/spock advent, knights of the round table - Freeform, medieval era, old england, royal family, set in the dark ages, spock as a royal prince, spoken Latin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 14:13:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8755696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tprillahfiction/pseuds/tprillahfiction
Summary: In the middle ages, His Royal Highness, Prince Spock of England is betrothed to Prince Ronald of Vulgaria.  The Tower of London is in a frenzy as Christmas and wedding preparations are underway.  Spock finds he is looking forward to the wedding, that is until James, a common scruff, shows up causing trouble.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have several anachronisms in this, so it's not historically accurate. Vulgaria is a fictitious country (taken from 'Chitty Chitty Bang Bang').

A PRINCE AND HIS SQUIRE AT CHRISTMAS

Once upon a time on Earth there was a prince named Spock. His highness, Prince Spock of the Kingdom of England to give him his full title. King Sarek, his father, was ruler of England. Queen Amanda, Spock’s beloved mother, had died many years before. 

King Sarek was known in the land as the elf king, being as his ears were pointed. But he was not an elf. As legend had it, his origins were from the alien Vulcanians who had landed their spaceship on Earth many years ago. Prince Spock also shared the pointy eared trait and was known as the elf prince. 

Leonard McCoy, was Prince Spock’s confidant and the court healer, soothsayer and wizard. Keeper of the cauldron of potions that foretold the future. Spock relied on the man's wisdom. The man sometimes called him: ‘hobgoblin’. It was an affectionate nickname, and Prince Spock knew this. In return Spock had named the man: ‘Bones’ in reference to McCoy’s lair which was filled with the objects, littering the ground. Many bones were used in the man's potions and magic spells and healing recipes. Spock did not visit Bones' lair very often for that reason. Others in the court of Sarek started using the nickname as well. 

Bones now sat in the stands watching the young prince joust. His heart filled with pride. He had watched the young prince grow up, the lad first learning to ride a horse and fight with a sword, struggling with latin and the sciences under Bones' tutelage, creating beautiful paintings, engaging in many games of chess. Now the tall, lithe but strong prince was unbeatable on horseback. 

Bones watched Spock defeat all of the knights in the jousting ring. He rose to his feet with the other spectators to applaud the young prince. 

Lady Uhura placed a gold medal around the prince’s neck. Then she curtseyed. 

Prince Spock bowed his head. “Thank you, my Lady. I shall cherish this.” 

The spectators of the jousting tournament rushed into the ring. McCoy went down and pushed his way through the throng to Prince Spock. “Fine fighting, your highness," he called as he approached. "Fine fighting.” 

“Thank you, Bones,” Spock replied. “I am gratified you could make the tournament.”

“Of course I could fucking make it, Spock,” Bones hissed. “Wouldn’t miss it.” 

Spock clasped the reins of his white stallion and ignored the wizard’s vulgarity. He was used to it by now. He asked: “What say you, Bones, of the future?” They walked together with Spock’s horse. The squire, Pavel Chekov, rushed up to take the reigns from the prince and lead the steed to the stables. “Do you think there could possibly be a knight who could defeat me?”

“You’re pretty handy with that sword, your highness.”

“I can see it in your face, Bones. You’ve looked at your potions, they’ve foretold you something. Have they not?”

Bones nodded. “I have. There may be one who can defeat you. And quite possibly that man will also capture your heart.”

Spock stopped. “Who is he? What does he look like?”

“That…I’m not sure. I couldn’t see his face. Only his kindness.”

“Bones, if you could not see his face, perhaps it is pure fantasy. I know of no knight who could defeat me, nor capture my heart.”

Bones smiled. “You are much too cocky, Hobgoblin.”

* * *

When Prince Spock and Bones returned to court, there was the buzz of excitement in the air. Spock rarely had seen the Tower of London like this, but he attributed it to Christmas coming in precisely one month's time. 

“You’ve arrived!” a lord-in-waiting rushed up and said. “Finally! Your father wishes to see you!”

“Ah,” Spock said. Bones trailed him into the throne room. 

King Sarek's attention was taken by at a huge oil painting. He glanced up and beckoned. “My son. Come!” 

Spock approached his father and bowed his head. Bones did the same. 

“Never mind all the social pleasantries,” Sarek said. “Come, Spock. Look here.”

“What is it, Father?”

“This is your husband to be,” King Sarek said, indicating the oil painting. "What do you think?" 

“Husband?” Spock said. “I…see…I…oh. Married.”

Bones raised an eyebrow. "Married, your grace? Isn't his highness a little...I dunno, young?"

The king ignored Bones and replied to Spock: “You are of eighteen years already. I was married to your mother much younger than you. It is high time you were married. I have found you a husband.”

Spock did not know what to say. He did not fault his father. Spock was of royal blood, a prince of the rhelm and this was his duty to his country, to marry. He finally managed a: “Thank you, Father.” 

“Several suitors sent in oil paintings. This man,” Sarek indicated the artwork, “I decided was the most attractive mate for you. As you can see. He is apparently an expert jouster and horseman. The best in his land.” 

Spock looked: The painting was indeed of a fairly attractive man. Blond hair, a fair beard, blue eyes, but there was a hardness or cunning in those eyes, they did not look kind at all. “You say he is an expert jouster and horseman?” 

“Prince Ronald of Vulgaria. It is an advantageous match for England. He appears to be about your age.”

“Yes, Father.”

“When he arrives in a month’s time, you and he will have lots to talk about. I hereby declare you betrothed to Prince Ronald.” Sarek clapped his hands. “The wedding will commence on Christmas eve. I order the court to begin preparations immediately! Send a fast horse to Vulgaria to notify the Vulgarian royal family.”

Spock stood in shock. 

“Holy shit,” Bones whispered into Spock’s ear. “His grace doesn’t waste any fucking time, does he.” 

* * *

Bones bent over his cauldron of potions and looked into the smoke. “Alright, you bastard, what say you?”

When the smoke cleared, he saw the future.

“No!”

* * *

A feast was called for to celebrate the betrothal. Prince Spock sat at the head table with his father, idly watching the fool juggle, the musicians play and the other entertaiments. 

Bones rushed in, looked around and ran over to the prince. “Your highness, I--!”

“Where have you been?”

“Spock, I need to talk to you. Now, dammit.” 

“Bones,” Spock said. “Sit down. Stop with the curses. There is a celebration in progress, do not be rude."

"Spock!"

"Sit! I command it."

Bones grimaced and finally sat. "Fine."

"Have some ale." Spock pushed over a mug, the man taking it and having a long gulp. "Bones, I must commend you. You were correct. A man will capture my heart. My betrothed. He is an expert at jousting and horsemanship. I will learn to love this man.”

Bones set down the mug. “Spock. Don't marry that guy.”

“What do you mean ‘don’t marry that guy’?” Spock asked the wizard. 

“I looked into my cauldron and I saw—”

“You said so yourself, a man will capture my heart. A knight. Is it not he, the prince, that you saw in my future?” 

“I don’t know,” Bones said. “Something is wrong. Just...I have a bad feeling things are gonna go to hell in a hand basket."

"I beg your pardon? You know, Bones, sometimes I really have trouble understanding you."

"Read my lips, man. Don't marry that guy.”

“It is already settled. My father has accepted the proprosal. I am betrothed. Never mind, Bones. I am resolved to be content with this arrangement. Please, eat drink, be merry. My father has commanded I marry this man. Please obey.”

Bones hit the table with his fist. “Yes, your highness. I will obey your father's command. I swear it.”

* * *

James, from a far off town, rode the hundreds of miles to the Tower of London on a black stallion. He crossed the drawbridge, passing a few ravens and arrived at the front gates. “Let me in!” James shouted. 

“What do you want?” the lord-in-waiting at the gate demanded.

James held up a piece of parchment. “It is written here on this scroll, that the Tower of London is hiring for the Christmas season. There are jobs to be had and I am a lad in need of a job.” And food. And shelter. For he was traveling without purse or scrip and he was in want a of a good meal. 

The lord-in-waiting eyed him up and down, scowled at James’ fancy horse, squinted at his sword. “Only a knight can carry such a sword, lad. You are most definitely not a knight.”

“Not yet, my lord. However I fully intend to achieve that honor, quite soon.”

“Cheeky bastard. Stow yer possessions. To the kitchens with you, assisting the cook.” 

James shrugged. He was willing to obey as long as he could get inside that tower before the weather grew much colder. He turned in his sword at the smiths, stabled his horse. He met up with cook who pointed him to his duties. 

A great deal of washing up. Cook threw him an apron. 

Jim sighed, dipped his hand into the pot of soapy water and got started. 

* * *

There was no one available to joust with. Everyone, including the knights of the round table, even his friends Sir Montgomery Scott and Sir Hikaru Sulu, was pressed into service, readying the palace for his wedding. He had escaped from the tailor, heading for the practice ring. He could not stand being fussed over by servants, clothed in wedding finery and robes and jewels any longer, much preferring his chain mail, and simple oversheath and boots.

He took a few swipes with his sword and muttered: "My wedding. A pox on my wedding!" He caught himself before he uttered any more curses. He would learn to love that man in the painting, his betrothed, he was determined to do so. He owed his father that much. If only mother could be here to see him now. To give him comfort. 

But what he would do for a jousting partner right now. "Oh!" he lamented. "My kingdom for a jousting partner!"

* * *

Less than halfway finished with his washing up duties, James stepped out of the kitchen door for a sneaky break. He eyed a figure out in the jousting ring. 

“ _Oh, what I would do— my kingdom for a jousting partner!_ ” James heard the lone figure cry out. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jim spied Cook yelling red faced and blustering at a serving wench. Jim glanced back at the figure lamenting in the practice ring, gave another glance back at the kitchen, then snuck off. 

* * *

Spock parried his sword, and it was suddenly met by another, making a loud clang of metal and a shower sparks. 

Spock jumped back, held up his weapon at the ready. “Who goes there?”

“I do. You said you desired a man to joust with, I am but such a man,” James told him. "Your kingdom for a jousting partner!" 

Spock sheathed his sword. “I think not.”

James sheathed his, too. “Why not?”

“You are obviously not a knight.”

“Who says I have to be a knight to joust?”

“Says I,” Spock told him. “I may only joust with a knight. Those are the rules. I can fight with no one else.”

“Well, that’s a stupid rule,” James said. “Who the fuck are you, then?”

Spock’s eyes widened. “I should have you put in irons!” He stomped off. 

“Wait a minute!” James tore off after him. “I’m new here! I don’t know who everybody is! Who are you?”

Spock spun around. “Who am I, indeed? When did you arrive here?”

“About an hour ago.”

“Well, then you can go back to whence you came. I have no interest in jousting with the likes of you.”

“I’m an expert jouster and horseman," James said. "Are you afraid of my abilities?”

“ _Stultitia_ ,” Spock said in latin. “ _Appares spuma terrae_.” ('Nonsense. You appear to be the scum of the earth.')

“ _Non tam certa_ ,” James replied in latin. " _Species potest esse deceptio_." ('Do not be so certain. Appearances can be deceiving.')

Spock halted. Only the very learned, noblemen, royals and clergy spoke Latin, not a common boy like this. Spock shook his head and resumed walking.

James followed close behind. “Why don’t we joust, just once?" He pleaded. "Come on, man. I’m on my break. My horse is stabled right here. Why not?”

“You are on break? From where?”

“The kitchens,” James said. 

“The…kitchens?!” Spock sputtered. 

Just then Cook came running up. “My apologies, your highness! THERE is the escapee!” Cook grabbed James’ ear. 

“OWWWW!” James shrieked. 

“Back to work you cheeky SOD!!!!” She hit him with a rolling pin. 

James spun around. “Your ‘ _highness_ ’? You? You’re the elf prince?” He suddenly spotted the pointed ears. “Oh my God, it is you. I’m so embarrassed. Sorry, I didn’t know—”

Cook struck James yet again with that rolling pin. “Get back to the kitchens!” 

“Watch it with that thing, Madam!” James yelled.

“I am going to have you put into the dungeon if you don’t get to the kitchens,” cook yelled. 

“Wait a moment, Cook, it is alright,” Spock said, holding up a hand. “What say you, servant boy? Is it true what you boast? Are you an expert jouster and horseman?”

James found himself wavering under the prince's stare. "Well, uh...."

"Ah, so you were only telling tales," Spock said in disgust. "Cook, take him away." 

Cook grabbed his ear again. 

"OW!" James yelled. He pulled out of Cook's grasp. "No wait, it is true, your highness. I am an expert."

"But you are not a knight?"

"Well, uh...no...I haven't had the opportunity or the funds to uh...get knighted by the king. Being a knight costs a fair bit."

“Well,” Spock said, thinking about it for a moment. “There are no knights available. I am rather desperate.” He looked at Cook. “I shall take responsibility for this lad.”

“He's trouble. Don’t say I haven’t warned ya, Your highness,” the cook said, then turned on her heel. 

Spock and James watched cook walk away. 

“Where is your horse stabled?” Spock asked. 

“Over there, your highness.”

"Excellent, that is also where mine is." Spock watched as James collected his steed from the attendant. "That is a beautiful horse."

"Thank you, it was my father's."

"Where is he now?"

"Dead. Killed in battle."

"I grieve with thee."

"It's alright, he died when I was a baby. On my birthday, to be precise."

"Your father was a knight," Spock surmised. "And you wish to be a knight as he was."

"Yes. I hope to fight as bravely as he did." 

"What was his name? Perhaps I knew this knight."

"If you don't mind, your highness. I'd rather not...uh...talk about him."

"I see. My apologies."

After an awkward silence, James watched as Spock retrieved his own stallion. "Nice horse."

"Thank you. It belonged to my late mother." 

"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss."

"It is quite alright." Spock jumped onto his horse. "Shall we get to jousting?" 

* * *

James knelt down on the ground next to Spock. Spock's jousting stick was broken into pieces, his sword lay on the ground. He had a large gash on his stomach, cut right through the chain mail. 

"Dammit!" James said. "I didn't mean to get you that hard!" He clamped a hand on the prince's wound which was bleeding like a sieve. "What should I do?"

Spock grimaced in pain. "Go...run...and retrieve Bones....have him bring his healing kit. Run...hurry....!" 

* * *

James ran through the castle calling out to anyone who would listen: "Bones! Where is Bones?!" 

A serving wench blocked his path. "Hark, who goes there?" She came up to him, touching his chest, rubbing him, her hands traveling down his belly. "Don't bother with Bones, lad. How about you and I--?"

He smacked her hands away. "I have to find Bones! It's an emergency! Where is he?" 

"Well, now," she said. "He could be in his lair...or...."

"Where?"

"He might be with a...young lady....you know what I mean?"

James sighed and turned to walk away. 

"Try the curtains in the hallway, he loves to lurk there and try out his new invention...the lambskin condom!" She called after him. 

* * *

Bones' bare ass was pumping up and down. A female giggle errupted from behind the curtain. "Ohhh," Bones moaned softly. "Baby, you feel so good." 

"Oh, Bones," the lady said. "Fuck me."

James rushed past, embarrassed to witness somebody in the act of coitus. But he suddenly halted. "Wait a minute. Bones? You're Bones?" 

Bones stopped, dropped the lady down, yanked on his robe. "Huh? Who's that?" 

"Please Hurry!" James turned, then looked away to give the healer some privacy. "The prince is seriously injured." 

"Oh, shit!" Bones cursed. He cupped the lady's face. "Sorry, Baby, duty calls." 

"Ohhhhhhh!" she grumbled, pulling down her skirts.

"Please hurry!" James said. 

Bones came over to him, halted, stared open mouthed. "Who the hell are you, kid?" 

"I'm James! Quickly, the prince! You are a healer, correct?"

Bones continued to stare for another moment before shaking his head. "Yes. Where is he?" 

"The practice jousting ring!" 

"Let me grab my medical kit," Bones said.

* * *

"Oh my God, no," Bones said as he knelt down next to Spock. "Who did this to you, ambushed you? I'll kill him with my own bare hands!"

"It was...merely...an accident," Spock breathed out. 

Bones pressed a cloth against the wound. "James, help me carry him into my lair. His father sees this and he'll be livid. We can't have a dead prince on our hands, not with his wedding in a few weeks."

"His wedding?" James asked. "Oh...."

Spock moaned. 

"You're gonna be okay, Spock," Bones said. "Just hang tight, alright?" 

"Hmmmm." 

* * *

They laid him down on Bones' bed. 

Bones examined Spock, then was grumbling as he sterilized a needle and got out a length of cat gut. James sat down next to the prince. "I'm sorry," he said. 

Spock took James hand. "It is of no consequence," he said weakly. 

"But it is," James said. 

Bones was busy threading the needle. "You gonna...uh...keep holding his highness's hand, there kid? He's gonna squeeze it like nobody's business when I start sewing up the wound." 

"I can take it," James insisted. 

* * *

Spock screamed again. James did too, for Spock squeezed his hand so tightly, but he did not let go. 

"Last one," Bones said, "then I'm done." He pulled the needle and thread. Then dove in for one more. "Okay, just have to tie a knot."

"Oh....blessed be the Virgin," Spock breathed out. 

"Agreed. What he said," James said. 

Bones finished up then cut the thread. He lay a section of sterilized, clean cloth over the wound. Then he gave the prince an injection. 

"What is that?" James asked. 

"What, this?" Bones held up the hypodermic needle. "My new invention. To stave off infection. It is called an antibiotic. I developed it from bread mold."

"Mold?" both James and Spock said. 

"Ah...enough with you, your highness. Rest!" Bones pointed at James. "You get out." 

Spock squeezed James hand a final time before he let go. "I am sorry I caused you distress."

"You're sorry? I'm the one who's sorry."

"Thank you for being there for me, James," Spock said. "In my hour of need."

"You're most welcome, your highness," James said with a smile and a bow. "You just relax." 

"I'll uh...just go tell your father you fell off your horse and got a slight scratch so he doesn't uh...freak out," Bones said as he washed his hands and put away his supplies. 

"That would be wise," Spock said. 

* * *

As soon as Bones left his lair with James in tow, he rounded on him and shoved him into a brick wall. "What the fuck, man?"

"What?"

"That wound, you obviously bested him in joust, didn't you."

"It was an accident, as his highness said." 

"Bullshit. You bested him. I can't believe it. Who in the fuck do you think you are? You're not even a fucking knight, you can't fight him. It isn't allowed. It's against the rules."

"So I've heard."

"So don't do it again." Bones' eyes widened. "He's betrothed, due to marry on Christmas Eve and the king will have my ass on a platter if anything happens to him. I'm very protective of the lad, you see. So don't fuck with him! You got that?"

"Alright, alright." 

"Good," Bones stomped off. 

______________________  
on to the next chapter


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I mention the "Paternoster" in this chapter. It is the "Lord's Prayer" in Latin, used by the Roman Catholic church, along with the prayer over meals also in Latin. The characters in this story are Roman Catholic as is appropriate for the era, this obviously set approximately one hundred years before King Henry VIII. Some characters are more devout than others.
> 
> Also, there are several anachronisms.

As Bones hurried away to fetch the king, James stood outside Bones' lair. He dare not go back inside to disturb the prince. Besides, he caught the odor of food. Mouth watering, smelled delicious and he was starving, maybe he could snatch a spare roast kid leg to feast on. 

"There you are, you miserable git! Back to the washing up with you!" It was Cook, brandishing her rolling pin, ready to bash his head in. 

James spun around and took off running, with Cook in hot pursuit. 

* * * 

Sarek burst into Bones' lair, Bones on his heels. "My son!" the king bellowed out.

Spock opened his eyes. "Father." Bones hurried and pulled up the duvet high on Spock's chest so that the wound would not be visible. 

Sarek sat down on the bed, next to Spock. "I hear you fell off of your horse. That is highly unusual for you." 

"Yes, Father." Spock glanced up and met Bones' eyes. "I fell. Off my horse. There was a slight distraction. A noise. Outside. Causing her to rear up and uh--"

Bones finished: "There's a slight back injury, only the muscles, he's fine. Just needs to rest for a few days, that's all, your grace. I shall look after him." 

Sarek lay a comforting hand upon Spock's chest, over the duvet, unaware of Spock's real injury. Spock shifted. Sarek lifted his hand. "Feeling a great deal of discomfort?"

"Yes, any pressure against his chest--it's affecting the uh...several vertibra," Bones said, motioning. "Perhaps it would be best not to touch him, your grace."

"My apologies."

"Thank you, Father, for calling upon me," Spock told him. 

"I had to make certain you would be alright for the wedding--cannot have an international incident such as you--Well, of course, I am also gratified to find that you shall recover soon."

"I will, Father, thank you," Spock replied. 

"I knighted Pavel Chekov, today," Sarek said. 

"You did? Excellent news, Father. A well deserved honor."

"I suppose that means you are now without a squire to attend you," Sarek lamented. "I shall have to find you a suitable replacement. Later, when you are well enough again. I shall bid you--Ah, I nearly forgot," Sarek said, reaching inside his cloak. "This arrived from your betrothed." He held out a scroll. 

"Prince Ronald has sent a letter?" Spock said. "Ah. Thank the heavens." He allowed a small smile before composing himself as a regal prince should. "Have you read it yet?"

"I have not. I thought I would do you the honor of us reading it together, my son." Sarek untied the ribbon. Unrolled it. Held it out to Spock.

Spock traced the royal seal of Vulgaria with a finger. "My betrothed."

* * *

James skidded to a halt in front of the large chapel. He opened the huge wooden door and peeked inside. A crew of servants were putting finishing touches on a collection of christmas trees. An altar boy clad in red and white lit several white candles encased in glass, then disappeared into the back. 

James heard the footsteps of the stout, screeching Cook calling out, searching for him. He went inside the chapel. 

The foreman of a crew of servants noticed him as they packed up their tools. "It's our supper break. Don't mess the place up, kid." 

"I'm here to... uh...pray," James said. 

"Oh, alright then." The servants exited. 

James walked up to the altar. He shrugged. He gave the Sign of the Cross and knelt on a kneeler in a pew, placed his hands together. He was not a believer, not one for going to Mass, only attended for appearances sake but this one time, he would mean it when he said the 'Paternoster' for Spock. It sounded romantic, 'Paternoster' for Spock. He chuckled at that. Spock the handsome Prince--

James stopped himself. That handsome Prince recuperating in Bones' lair was engaged to be married to a princess and then Prince Spock of England would be busy making an heir and a spare and not have much free time for jousting. Jim was lucky to have scored one chance to joust with the prince--and of course, he'd had to fuck everything up. (Oh sorry, probably shouldn't have thought the word 'fuck' in a chapel) Dammit, say 'Paternoster' for Spock. (probably shouldn't say 'dammit' either) FUUUUUCCCK.....

Maybe the Paternoster wasn't the correct prayer at all. What does somebody do in a chapel when another is ill or injured? Pray the Rosary? Ave Maria? Or is that only for the dead? Light a candle? Hell, he didn't remember. There was a Rosary right there, hanging on the pew. James swiped it with a finger, the beads tinked as it swung back and forth. He stopped his playing around. Probably shouldn't have done that to the Rosary. Sacrilege. Could get put in the dungeon for that.

Okay Paternoster: 

_"Pater noster, qui es in caelis, santi ficetur nomen tu-um; adveniat regnum tu um; finat voluntas tu-a, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum cotidi anum da nobis hodie; et dimitte nobis debita nostra, sicut et nos dimit timus--"_

He was interrupted by a noise, he glanced up. A sutane clad monk had appeared in the pew next to him. 

* * *

Bones halted in front of the bed, eyeing the prince staring up at the ceiling. "Hobgoblin, why aren't you sleeping?"

Spock adjusted awkwardly, giving out a small grunt. "I am not fatigued at the moment." 

Bones sat down on the bed and smiled. "Mind filled with too many thoughts, I presume?"

"Where is James?" Spock asked. 

"Hell if I know. Are you in any physical pain, Spock?" 

Spock nodded. "A bit." 

Bones pulled down the duvet to check on the wound. He was satisfied with the healing process, however it was normal that Spock was uncomfortable. He got up from the bed, went to a cabinet. He brought back a sleeping potion then sat back down on the bed. "Here. This'll knock you right out."

Spock waved him off. "Later." 

Bones shrugged and set down the potion. "Are you hungry? How about some supper?"

"Yes, I could do with some sustenance." 

"Alright, I'll go to the kitchens in a moment." Bones reached over and massaged the prince's shoulders. "How's that? Feel okay?"

"Yes, thank you." Spock sighed. 

"Maybe next time you won't let a common scruff best you at joust. Let your husband-to-be best you at joust, perhaps, maybe it could even be a form of foreplay--" Bones chuckled at that, "But don't joust with a kid like that ever again."

"I did not 'let' him," Spock said.

"What do you mean?"

"I did not let James win. I gave as good as I could. He was somehow better than I."

"A fluke, your highness. Simply a fluke," Bones said.

"Ah, that must be it."

"He's not even a knight," Bones told him, moving down to massage the prince's feet. "Anyway, put away all thoughts of jousting. You need to be in good strength for your wedding."

"I thought you said, 'don't marry that guy'," Spock replied.

"I never said that."

"Yes you did. I remember quite distinctly."

"I must have been drunk or mad, or--"

"Perhaps I should not...." Spock began.

"Should not, what?"

"Marry the prince. Perhaps I should not marry Prince Ronald."

"What? You have to."

"I know," Spock said with a frown. 

"If I said that, I was wrong. You must marry the prince. It is your duty. Your destiny."

"Yes, I suppose you are right, Bones. You are a learned man."

"I remember when you were but an infant. At your christening, I held you in my arms. You were only a month old. And I wondered who you would eventually marry. I looked forward to that day, standing up with you in that same great chapel." 

"Do you think the Prince will ever love me? He does not appear to want to marry me."

"Oh...I'm sure...when he spends any time with you, he will grow to love you and cherish you. Why wouldn't he?"

"His letter did not even mention me, did not ask about me, my health or my welfare. It was filled with...many demands. Addressed only to Father. Rather rude, I found it," Spock said.

"Yes, I know," Bones replied. 

"Prince Ronald wants 'Excalibur' but only a king can fetch Excalibur from the lady of the lake, as you also know. Father has never wanted Excalibur, preferring to leave the sword to me upon his passing."

"Your betrothed must be thinking of future plans, a long way in the future," Bones soothed. "When you become king, many years from now." 

"Yes, that must be it." 

James suddenly skidded into Bones' lair. "Oh...sorry. If Cook asks about me, you didn't see me! Gotta go!"

"It is alright, James," Spock called out. Bones stopped massaging, got up off the bed. "Come. Stay awhile. Keep me company."

"Thank you, your highness." James approached Spock's bed. 

"Bones was just about to go to the kitchens," Spock said. "Would you like some supper, James?" 

"Ohhh, would I!" 

Bones rolled his eyes. "What the hell do I look like, a goddamned serving wench?"

"Please, Bones," Spock said. 

"Alright, alright. Supper for two, then." Bones sighed and stomped off and grumbled under his breath.

* * *

Bones pushed a cart carrying several silver trays of food, with the serving wench, Janice, in tow. She was entrusted with the goblets of wine, utensils, serviettes, water and the bread.

Bones and Janice entered his lair to find James, obviously making himself at home, reclining on Spock's bed, engaged in deep conversation with the prince, both young men staring into each other's eyes. Well, it was nice that Spock had a new friend--though Bones wondered what kind of a family this James kid originated from, whether or not it was safe for a royal prince to keep such company but...whatever....

James sat up when he heard their arrival. Bones pushed in the cart, rolled it over to the bed. He then moved to prop Spock up onto several pillows. 

Janice squeaked, setting down the tray of wine and bread. "Oh, your highness! I heard you were injured!" She ran over, circled her arms around his shoulders, gave him a kiss on the cheek. "My poor little prince!"

Spock huffed out an amused breath. "Thank you, Janice. I shall recover quickly under Bones' care."

"I hope so!" Janice squeezed him tighter.

Spock grunted with the force of Janice's hug. 

"Alright, my dear. Thank you, that will be all," Bones told Janice. He shooed her out. She released the prince and skipped out of the lair. 

Bones took the lid off of the silver trays. "Spock is a vegetarian, so he has soup and salad. James-- since you're pretty strapping and fit-- I figured you'd want something more substantial. Potatoes and lamb shank. Normally a serf like you in this court would only get to eat bread and water but--" 

Spock gave out another soft laugh. Bones raised an eyebrow at that, such a display was unusual for the prince. "Bones is joking, James," Spock assured him. "We do not feed our serfs bread and water, they eat the same grub as royals and noblemen. Even the prisoners in the dungeon are well fed."

"Oh," James said, chuckling. "Good to know."

Bones set a tray on Spock's lap. "Your highness." He set another in front of James. "Kid." 

James was about to tuck in when Spock cleared his throat, made the sign of the cross, put his hands together in prayer and closed his eyes. " _Benedic nos Domine et haec Tua dona quae de Tua largitate sumus sumpturi. Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen._ " 

"Oh. Uh, Amen," James said, shifting uncomfortably. Bones snickered. 

* * *

"So," James said, in between a bite of potatoes (and damn they were delicious, the best he'd ever had.). "Who's the lucky princess you're marrying?"

"Princess?" Spock shook his head. "Prince. It is a man."

"Oh," James replied. "I see."

"Do you have a problem with that?" 

"Not the fact it's a man, but, do you want to marry him?" James asked. 

"What I want is not important," Spock said. "What my father wants, what God wants, what is good for England: That is important." 

"So, you don't really want to marry him." 

Spock opened his mouth and closed it. "I have accepted it. When he arrives the day before the wedding, I will be glad to finally meet him and be his husband."

James chuckled. "Really?"

"I will thank you to cease talk on the matter. Everything has been decided."

"When are you marrying him?"

"Christmas eve."

"You could run away."

Spock sighed. "I cannot run away, James. It would be treason. How do you know Latin?"

"I just do. Doesn't everybody, prayers and shit?"

"You know more than the prayers. You are fluent. You seem rather well educated for a mere serf even if your father was a knight."

James shrugged. 

Spock glanced up as he heard Bones approach. "I need to use the close stool." 

"Oh," Bones replied. "Stay there. I'll fetch you a bedpan." 

"No," Spock insisted. "I shall get up." 

"You can't walk by yourself, you're gonna need help, especially with cleansing yourself."

"I'll help him," James offered. 

"That is not your job, kid, nor mine," Bones said. "It is a job for the Lord of the Close. Shall I fetch him, your highness?"

"I do not want the Lord of the Close," Spock said. "I have to go, now." 

"What the hell is a 'Lord of the Close'?" James asked. 

"In plain terms, James, the Lord of the Close is the one who wipes my arse after I have a shit. He cleans up after me, disposes of my waste and water," Spock told him. He shot a wicked glance at Bones, who's mouth gaped in surprise. 

"I can do that," James insisted. "I don't mind." 

"This is unprecedented," Bones said. "You're a royal prince! Not just anybody can--!"

"If the Lord of the Close does not find out, he will not know the difference." Spock held out his arms. James helped him up. 

"Oh Jesus," Bones lamented. "It will be my ass on a platter for sure." 

Spock stood, in James' grasp, totally nude. Bones noticed the kid trying not to look at Spock's body.

"Bones' close stool is that way," Spock said. 

"Don't tear your goddamned stitches!" Bones called after them. 

_______________  
on to chapter 3


	3. Stuck In Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James entertains Prince Spock while he recuperates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoted in this: "The Cantebury Tales" by Chaucer. 
> 
> Also the "Paternoster" a Roman Catholic Latin prayer ("The Lord's Prayer")
> 
> Again, I have several anachronisms in this, (the modern language especially).

"So this is a close stool," James said. It was merely a glorified outhouse, not very impressive in his opinion. However the room was indoors with a chamber pot inside a wooden box with a seat built on top and seemed much more convenient and warmer.

"Indeed," Spock replied.

James shut the door behind them and waited patiently. "So you really need a servant to wipe your arse? You can't manage something as intimate as that on your own?"

Spock went up to the contraption, indicated for James to lift up the seat, then began to urinate. "I am a royal prince."

"And royal princes can't wipe their own asses? Don't you want any privacy?"

Spock sighed. "I have no privacy." He finished up, stepped back. "You must take the pan outside to empty it, in the pit." He turned around and went to the door. James opened it for him. "I must admit, you are much more attractive than my usual Lord-of-the-Close."

Spock exited.

* * *

When James walked out of Bones' lair toting the pan of water, Spock said to Bones: "I would like Father Gregory to say Mass here, if possible."

"Of course it's possible, Spock," Bones replied. "But are you sure you're feeling up to it?"

"I will not kneel nor genuflect. I will remain in bed. However, I must have Mass said. Communion and an anointing. Please fetch the priest."

"Your wish is my command, your highness." Bones grabbed a linen shift, placed over the prince's head, helped him put it on. "And what about when that ragamuffin kid comes back? James? Shall I send him away so you can hear Mass in peace?"

"He may stay," Spock said. Bones nodded, bowed and left.

* * *

James re-entered Bones' lair to find a priest, a monk and two altar boys surrounding Spock's bed. "Oh...."

"You are just in time for Mass, James," Spock said, from the bed. "Come."

"Oh...I uh...I can leave. I don't want to disturb...."

"I do not mind your presence," Spock said. James nodded and sat down on the bed.

"Please rise," the priest commanded him. James obeyed, glancing around him. _"In Domino patri, et filli, es spiritu sante. Amen,_ " the priest said.

James looked at Bones for help. Bones grinned and shook his head.

* * *

Later, after Father Gregory and company had left, James said: "I noticed a chess board over there on Bones' shelf. Do you...happen to play?"

Spock met James eyes. "You are everything--" He stopped. "We have a great deal in common. Yes, I would like to play chess with you. Very much so. Bones?"

Bones glanced up from his medical text. "Hmm?"

"Set up the chess board for us, please."

Bones grumbled and obeyed Spock's bidding.

* * *

Bones spent some time in the close stool, then freshened himself up. He returned to find Spock asleep and that goddamned serf curled up next to him on the bed. Bones lunged over, grabbed the kid's arm.

James woke with a start. "Huh?"

"You can't sleep with the prince, you fool," Bones hissed. "Get the fuck out."

"I have nowhere else to go," James whispered.

"I don't care if you sleep out in the stables with the horses, you can't stay here. Get!" Bones pointed to the door.

Spock stirred. "James may remain here."

"Sorry to wake you, your highness," Bones said. He let go of James, glared at him and stomped off.

* * *

It appeared in his dreams--The Prince of Vulgaria lunging out of his engagement portrait, laughing, cackling, morphing into evil... becoming a huge, green slithering asp with sharp dripping fangs, then turning a deadly black cyanide cloud...threatening to strangle him, steal his oxygen, he couldn't breathe...lungs collapsing, everybody dying, Spock, the prince, was...so unhappy, sobbing, deep in mourning--

"No!" Bones snapped awake, gasping. He sat up in his bed, trying to calm his breathing. He wiped the sweat from his brow.

He lit a candle, left his chamber and went over to check on the prince.

His highness was fine. Fast asleep with that damned kid in bed next to him.

He sighed, returned to his bed, set the candle down on his nightstand. He dug a book out of his drawer and began to read.

* * *

The next morning, Father Gregory returned with the monk and altar boys to again say Mass for the bedridden prince (and the prince's annoying hanger on.)

"Hush, Bones," Spock had hissed. "James is a welcome guest."

"Hmph."

Afterwards, Bones served Spock and James breakfast. He then tucked into his own. He sipped his coffee, listening to their conversation:

"You have Mass said everyday?" James asked.

"Twice a day, morning and night," Spock told him. "Don't you go to Mass?"

"No, I uh...." James shrugged. "You know, I get...busy, with things...."

"I schedule it into my day," Spock said. "Since my mother's passing, especially, I feel comforted by the saints and the Latin Mass. I think of mother and pray the Rosary for her."

"Uh," Bones said, breaking into the conversation. "This is one of the rare times you'll see his highness in bed all day--normally he's scheduled up to the gills. All the wedding preparations are going on, it's a madhouse out there."

"Must be an interesting life, being a royal prince," James said. "No privacy. An arranged marriage. No choice in the matter. No freedom."

"I am grateful for my position in life," Spock said. "I have many responsibilites and when I am one day king, I will have even more. I am indebted to England."

"Of course."

"However, I am enjoying my holiday from the rat-race," Spock said with a smirk.

* * *

James heard a woman's giggle, then somebody-- it sounded like Bones, _it WAS Bones_ \-- shushing them. He opened his eyes, glanced over. Spock was staring up at the ceiling. When Spock heard Jim rouse, he turned and met James' eyes.

"He has two wenches in bed with him," Spock whispered.

James chuckled. "Two? Damn."

"Women are most attracted to him."

"Are they?"

"He sounds as if he is enjoying himself a great deal," Spock said. "My hearing is rather more developed than usual. It's a hederetary trait."

"Because of the points on your ears?"

Spock blushed. "I know they are unusual."

"I like your ears. They're very graceful."

"Are they? They serve me well." Spock turned and looked up at the ceiling. "I hope my first time with my husband will be like that. Enjoyable."

"I'm sure it will be," James replied. "I'm sure your husband-to-be will make a good lover."

"When I saw...." Spock cleared his throat. "When I saw my bethrothed's portrait, I was struck by his eyes. They did not appear kind at all. There was a hardness, a coldness in them, that terrified me. It makes me wonder if he will take me savagely on the wedding night."

James also cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly under the duvet. "I'm sure he'll be gentle. I mean...I would be, with you...so I don't think your husband would be...uh...any different."

"You would be gentle, with me?" Spock asked with a small puff of air that sounded like a laugh.

"Yeah, well, I mean...hypothetically," James said.

"Of course," Spock replied. "Have you ever engaged in the act?"

"What? Sex? Yes."

"What does it--?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind. I will find out. I am saving myself for the wedding night."

"Really? You're a virgin?"

"Of course. I have to be until I am married."

"Oh. Can I ask you a question?"

"Yes. Anything."

"Be honest. Do you really want to marry that guy? Somebody you've never met before? You've only seen...what...his portrait? A painting? I mean, duty aside. Why do you put up with it?"

"I have to. I do not mind, honestly," Spock insisted. There was a long, awkward pause, then he said: "James, I think perhaps you and I should get some sleep. Should we not?"

"Yeah," James replied.

They were quiet for a few moments. James glanced over and noticed Spock still staring at the ceiling. "What's the matter?"

Spock sighed. "I can hear Bones deep in the...throes...of passion. Fascinating."

"Should I go tell them to knock it off?"

"No."

James thought for a moment. "Would you like me read something to you? A chapter from a book? To take your mind off things?"

Spock nodded. "That would be most kind. Thank you."

"Just a moment." James got out of bed, retrieved a book off of a shelf, then returned to bed. "Found this in Bones' library."

"Ah. What is it?"

"'The Canterbury Tales'," James replied.

"That sounds like a nice, innocuous title. Please read some of it."

James opened it up to 'The Miller's Tale' and read:

" _A rich man but a miser, took in boarders,_  
_And of his craft he was a carpenter_  
_with him dwelling there was a poor clerk._

_This clerk was called Nicholas,_  
_gentle was he and handsome,_  
_of derne love he could and of solace...._

"He loves who he can? He take solace in whom?" Spock wondered.

"This man, Nicholas, has illicit affairs with married women or whoever he can get," James explained.

"Ah. That is not very nice. Please continue."

_"This carpenter had wedded new a wife, Which that he loved more than his life, of eighteen year, i guess, she was of age, jealous he was and held her narrow in cage. For she was wild and young and he was old,_  
_and John deemed himself like a cockold...."_

"Cockold?" Spock asked.

"Yeah, this man, John, is afraid his wife might cheat on him."

"I see. Continue."

" _While her husband was away, prively Nicholas caught her by the cunt,_  
_and said: You will have my willy._  
_For if you do not maketh love with me, I will spill."_

"Nicholas grabbed her intimately, in the woman parts?" Spock asked in an endearing, naive tone.

"Uh huh," James replied, then chuckled. He read some more:

 _"This Nicholas gaineth mercy because he cry,_  
_and spoke so fair, and proffered so fast,_  
_that she her love she granted at last.... _"__

"She made love to him," Spock said. "Because he wooed her. This married woman."

"Uh huh."

_"When Nicholas had done this every deed, he spanked her about the lendes wheel, then kissed her sweetly and taketh out his harp and playeth fast and maketh melody...."_

"He spanked her on the bottom after they were finished engaging in sexual intercourse?" Spock said. "Interesting." (James could swear the prince's breathing had increased.) "And the man was so unpeterbed by his actions he played a jaunty tune on his harp. Scandalous."

"I know, right?" James said. "Shall I continue?"

"Please."

" _Now there was a parish clerk,_  
_of which was called Absalon._  
_Curled was his hair and as the gold it shone_  
_and stretched as a fan large and broad._ "

Spock deduced: "This Absalon is in love with the married matron, Alison, who is cuckolding her husband."

"Exactly," James said. "Here's some more about Nicholas and Alison:"

_"Without words they'd gone to bed, there as the carpenter is wont to lie, there's was the revel and the melody, and thus lyeth Alison and Nicholas in the business of mirth and solace, till the bell of Laudes rang, and the fires in the chancel had gone out. _"__

"They made love all night in the husband's bed." Spock gulped. "Continue."

_"Then the next night, about curfew time or a little more,_  
_for travail of his gone, he'd growneth sore,_  
_and he routeth for his heed mislay_  
_down of the ladder stalketh Nickolay_  
_and Alison, full soft adun she sped_  
_and without words they'd gone to bed."_

"They did it again, had more sexual relations," Spock said.

"They sure did," James said. He read some more:

_"Absolon stood under the window, what do ye, honeycomb, sweet Alison? My faire bird, my sweet cinnamon. Awaken and speak to me. That for your love i sweat wherever I go, I desire as a lamb for the tit, I have such a love longing, I may not eat, no more than a maid."_

"Absolon wants in on the action," Spock said.

"Exactly," Jim replied.

 _ _"_ Go from the window, thou fool, she said._  
_as help me God, it will not be_  
_I love another, else I were to blame_  
_well better than thee, Absolon._  
_Go forth thy way, or I will cast a stone. _"__

_"'Alas!' quoth Absolon, 'and well away!_  
_That true love was so ill beset:_  
_then kiss me, since that it may be no better_  
_for Jesus' love and for the love of me.'_  
_'Wilt thou then go thy way therewith?' quoth she._  
_'Yes, for certain,' quoth this Absolon._  
_'Then make thee ready,' quoth she, 'I come anon.'_  
_This Absoloun done settle on his knees,_  
_and said: 'I am a lord at all degrees,_  
_For after this I hope there cometh more....'"_

James paused and glanced at Spock. The prince was entranced. James continued:

_"The window she undid and that in haste,_  
_'Have done,' quoth she, 'come off and speed thee fast,_  
_lest our neighbors spy us.'_  
_Then Absolon wiped his mouth dry_  
_Dark was the night as pitch or as the coal_  
_and at the window she put out her hole,_  
_and Absolon him fell between_  
_but with his mouth he kissed her naked arse._  
_Full savorly. when he was aware of this,_  
_aback he start and though it was amiss,_  
_for well he thought a woman hath no beard,_  
_he felt a thing all rough and long haired,_  
_and said: 'For alas, what have I kissed?'_  
_'Tee Hee,' quoth she and--"_

"What did he kiss?" Spock said with wide eyes. "T'was not her arse."

"Her cunt, my prince," James whispered.

Spock gasped. "Enough. I have heard..." He gulped. "I have heard enough. Thank you."

"I didn't mean to upset you."

"No...." Spock swallowed again. "You have not upset me. However, I was not expecting such--"

"Pornography?"

"Is that what that was? I had no idea Bones would own such a filthy book."

James chuckled. "I'm sure he has more where that came from."

"We must get some sleep," Spock said. "Blow out the candle."

James closed the book, set it in the drawer. "Maybe we'll read some more another time."

"No, I dare not. I believe that will be all. But, thank you, it was...entertaining."

James blew out the candle. "Goodnight, Spock."

"Goodnight, James."

* * *

Spock opened his eyes. He could hear James soft snores next to him. He got himself up, out of bed (still a bit painfully).

Gingerly he made his way over to the prayer closet, shut the door behind him.

He sank down onto the kneeler, again as carefully as possible as not to tear any stitches.

He lit a candle. Put his hands together in prayer. He would be here all night if necessary, tomorrow he would have Father Gregory hear his confession:

" _Paternoster, qui es in caelis, santificetur nomen tuum._  
_Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra._  
_Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie,_  
_et dimitte nobis debita nostra...."_

_________________  
on to chapter 4


End file.
